


Only if for a Night

by stipulativeTzigane



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Birth Control, Cannabis, Car Sex, Drug Use, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, No Condom, Penis In Vagina Sex, Praise Kink, Recreational Drug Use, Sex in a Car, Shameless Smut, Smut, Smut and Angst, Stripping, Vaginal Fingering, a BDSM fanfic, light fluff, no beta we die like men, sorny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 20:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30044034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stipulativeTzigane/pseuds/stipulativeTzigane
Summary: TFW, you've spent your entire existence living in a retcon timeline based around the idea that you never meet your husband—only except that your son still exists in the future. So you get to have exactly one (1) night of passionate lovemaking with the man you could've spent your entire life with.#vrelatable #weveallbeenthere #ifihadaquarterforeverytimethishappentomeicouldpayforglennclosesonlyfans
Relationships: Glenn Close/Morgan Freeman (Dungeons and Daddies)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 8





	Only if for a Night

**Author's Note:**

> This reads like the sample text from a 3 dollar romance novel, and I will not be apologizing for that. (I deadass wrote the words "...approached his own zenith." and was like that's fine to share with other actual sentient human beings.) I ask for no forgiveness because I know no righteous soul would grant it

"Hey," Morgan looked up from the glow of her silenced Razor to the voice just down the alley. 

"Hey." it was the guitarist from the band inside, skin glistening from drying sweat.

"You good?" He looked genuinely concerned, his lips pressed into a thin line, warmth radiating from his dark eyes. Morgan nodded, more to convince herself than him. She looked away from the pretty man. Leaning her weight against the cooling brick of the bar's alley. 

She felt so lost. She had been getting more and more directionless this semester, or maybe the whole year; it was hard to tell how long she had been drifting off course. Hell, she wasn't even sure if the courses she had committed to were even what she wanted anymore. School had been frustrating at best for months. And if the last couple of weeks were any indication, her relationship was circling the drain. She couldn't even go to a dive bar without feeling like an imposter. 

The sound of a lighter sparked against the noise of the muted bar. She turned her head back to the musician and watched the glow of a joint light up his angular features. A deep intake melted seamlessly into a practiced hold. His eyes fluttered open, locking with her's before gently breathing out a soft cloud while holding her gaze. And all she could do was stare; there was something sexy about him, dark and dangerous and yet somehow familiar. 

He stared back at her tilting his head as a question, before offering the joint in a movement so captivating she found herself unable to refuse. She fumbled with the passing. Her unfamiliarity was only exasperated by the electricity that ran across her skin when their fingertips touched. And now the thing was in her hand, held awkwardly between her pointer and middle fingers. 

And she was so aware of him watching her. Not judgmental, just curious, as she brought the roll of paper to her lips. And breathed in nothing but oddly filtered air. 

"You don't have to." His bemused smile almost glowed through the dark alley. 

"No, I want to; I just haven't...." it felt dumb to admit that she had never tried to smoke weed before. But here, standing with this stranger, she felt more authentic than she had in the last year. 

"Do you want help?" Morgan nodded and tried to remember how to breathe as he stepped in close. He gently took the joint back "like this." He pressed it against the pad of her thumb, and she closed her pointer finger over it. Almost catching his long digits. "Good," he purred, and oh Gods, hearing him praise her like that did something dastardly in her stomach. 

"I'm going to light it. You breathe into your chest, not too deep to start." He moved closer, cupped the lighter, and brought both hands up to her face. She took in a tentative breath feeling smoke burn down her throat before she broke into a fit of coughing. 

"There we go." he gave a soft chuckle as he gently patted her shoulder. He took back the joint, hitting it easily and offering it to her again. She shook her head, still unable to regain her composure. He nodded and turned to move away. 

"Wait," she caught the wrist of his leather jacket. The brash motion surprised both of them. "Don't leave." She watched disbelief bloom in his eyes. 

"I won't if you don't." An impossible promise to a stranger, yet somehow it was a comfort. They stared at each other for a moment longer before he tentatively took the hand she'd reached out with in his own. Morgan could feel his heartbeat thrumming against her fingers and wondered if he was as nervous as she was; it seemed impossible. A gentle pull moved her away from the wall. She followed him as if in a dream to the bar's parking lot.

He unlocked the side door of a white windowless van and a distant sense of fear brush past her. Something in her bones knew he wouldn't be like that. Still holding her hand, he reached to a small cooler between the front two seats and pulled out two orange sodas, handing her one before sitting down on the edge of the van's floor, leaving room for her. 

"Thanks," she sat legs hanging out the side door. And opened the soda with the hand she hadn't surrendered to him. He brought the joint back to his lips and tried briefly to smoke before realizing it had gone out. She let go of his hand, ignoring the unexplained separation anxiety that rumbled in her gut. She watched him fascinated as he completed the small ritual. "Can I?" he smiled at her, passing to her again. She took it better this time, not as smooth as he was, but improved all the same. He gave her the lighter as well, and she tried to light it herself, barely alarmed at an open flame so close to her face. She coughed again, shakily giving back the tools, before drinking deeply. 

"What's your name?" he asked when she could breathe again. 

"Morgan." he smiled like he remembered something fondly. "And yours?"

"Glenn," and she had known that was the answer before she asked, which surprised her until she remembered the band that had played tonight was called the Glenn Close Trio.

"Oh, so your Mrs. DeVil himself." 

"Very funny." his voice was all eye rolls, but his face was that of pure joy. And Gods, he wore joy well, just pure dimples and warmth. Something deep in her chest longed to see that smile daily. She retook his hand. And his eyes went from joy to wonder. Her head spun, the unfamiliar spacey feeling of the weed finally catching up with her. It was new and exciting and yet somehow profoundly nostalgic. Her thoughts and emotions swirled out of her head and drifted in the cooling night air, adding to the strange magic that seemed to hang around the guitarist. 

She was staring again, fascinated by the way his eyes traced over her face. Maybe someday she would say she had been too far gone to make sound decisions, that this had been a mistake driven by stress and recreational drug use. But she knew it wasn't; she knew that she was much too close to sober to have any excuse. She leaned into him. 

He was nervous, she realized. Almost vibrating with unused energy, pupils dilated and centered on her lips, breathing shallow as if he might blow away whatever spell that hovered around them. He found her hand again, grounding the both of them to this one endless moment. Before she leaned in the rest of the way and kissed him. 

It was like coming home. Like unlocking the door and finding your kitchen exactly how you'd left it, all dust moats and unopened junk mail. Like the first shower in your own shower, where you could strip with the door open and wail into the conditioner and wash off everything that had tried to change you while you were gone. It was finding your bed and melting into the warmth of knowing you had nowhere and no one else to be.

And then his hand was at the back of her neck, and she opened her mouth to let him in. and it was all open road windows down and yelling into wild landscapes. Staring into the stars on an abandoned desert highway and feeling so trivial to anything but the person holding you. She glided her fingers across the bottom of his worn shirt and pulled his waist closer to her. He moaned like heat thunder, and she gasped lightning into his mouth.

"Mor," her name, a request, both. A syllable so familiar in his voice, she had no option but to grant the request. It was inevitable. They were inevitable, like gray hair and the coming fall. Not a question of if, but how. How would he hold her? How would she warm him? How long would they have together? 

"Glenn," his name was on her lips like it lived there. And with the way his body surged against her, he delighted in hearing her say it. They moved closer, tangling their legs until they were in each other's laps. His hands held her face like he was scared he might lose her, and she clung to his chest to feel the warmth of him against her. He pulled away, removing his jacket and shirt and tossing them into the van. He shone like bronze under the dome light before goosebumps scattered across his skin. She pressed herself against him in an attempt to keep him warm before she realized the futility and pulled back to undress herself. Standing out on the blacktop, she pulled off her hoodie and shirt in one smooth go. 

She could feel his eyes following the lines of her body, and she needed more. She shimmied out of her jeans, standing out in the open night air in only her boy-shorts and Chelsea boots. Glenn went from desire to reverence, and she felt powerful despite her vulnerability. He stood, reaching out to her, slowly pausing before actually touching her waist as if he might startle her away. 

"Your turn." he shivered under her command. 

"You're Trouble, aren't you?" His voice was breath and teeth.

"Compared to you? Close?" He smiled dangerously at that before awkwardly shuffling out of his jeans, all over-eagerness and nerves. He looked less like a lead guitarist and more like a second-rate wrestler, all disheveled and panting in the strange costume of silk boxers and cowboy boots. They stood there, adrenaline and arousal crackling between them, before finally crashing together. His skin burned against hers, as overpowering and dangerous as the smoke she'd asked for earlier. She clung to him, finding his lips hot and willing against her. 

Somewhere in the dark behind them, the sound of drunken talking bounced down the alley. Glenn froze against her, eyes blown with excitement. She smiled wickedly before he pulled her back towards the van. They landed in a tangle on the filthy carpet. He slammed the door shut and turned to stare at her with a wild mix of admiration and disbelief. 

"Nice shorts." She was shocked by how bold she felt, and if the pink that bloomed across his face was any indication, he was just as surprised.

Now she giggled like a child giddy with the thrill of getting away with mischief. He joined her, leaning in to hold her face like she was something precious. And then they were too close to be children. They were teenagers, unable to keep their hands off each other in the back of some parents' car. 

His lips searched hers like he was 8 years starved, and she pressed against him as if they could fuse into one. She felt the heat of his cock against her thigh and knew with a certainty she hadn't had in almost a year that she needed nothing else tonight but him. And it was such a relief to know for once precisely what would happen. Here with him so close, it seemed their meeting was fated. There was no variation of this world or any other where they did not find each other and unravel like this. 

"Wait, wait." he broke their kiss, and she sucked bruises down his collarbone while he caught his breath. "Morgan," He found her hands and held them gently against his chest to get her attention.

"We've gotta... I'm going to get the bed out, okay?" He was downright cute when he was this flustered.

"Okay... ok, yes, of course." words were hard when her mouth wanted to be elsewhere. She couldn't control the faint moan she made when he squeezed her hands before moving away. He glanced back at her quizzically as he moved to the small table and booth nestled against the vehicle's wall.

She was too busy kicking off her shoes to follow how the little dining cubby turned into a twin bed or where the worn sleeping bag had come from. Still, she did get to watch him open a stuffed cupboard above the window to pull out a small cardboard box. 

"fuck," he rummaged desperately through the box. "Fuck." The contents were dumped out across the bedding, and he dropped to his knees to sort through the collection of lube sample packets and drive-through napkins. "I can't believe. The one time-" he stopped himself mumbling and turned to her, all apology in his face. "Do you have a condom?" she shook her head and watched him swear to himself again. 

"Okay, i... I can go check the bar, or I think there was a 7/11 on the way in. I just need-" she stopped him with a kiss, his panic melting against her tongue. 

"I have a birth control implant," she said against his lips. 

"I'm clean, I swear. I got tested last month." She already believed him. 

"Mine was in spring, but I've only been with one other person." she pushed the meaning of her words out of her head to make room for his tongue.

"Lucky them." he chuckled. There was a detached sense of guilt floating somewhere near her gut, but it was so distant compared to the pure ecstasy she felt pressed against him.

"Not tonight." she finished, and Glenn was smart enough to not pursue this line of questioning further. He just kissed her, letting his hands roam hungrily across her skin. 

He tried to pick her up, but the angles were wrong, and they just ended up shuffling awkwardly to the bed. He shoved everything back into the box as she slid the cotton underwear down her thighs. 

"Aww. I wanted to do that." He wined when he turned back to her. 

"I can put them back on if you want." she mocked innocence, sitting up and folding her hands behind her back chest forward, so she had to look at him through her lashes. "Close." she purred it, watching how hearing her say his name affected him. He moved a hand under her chin, the callouses on the pads scraping deliciously along her jawline.

"Yeah?" The word sat farther back in his mouth, more a growl or a moan than a syllable. 

"Yeah." she almost whispered it, fascinated by how different he seemed with this new role. 

"I bet there's more you would do if I wanted," he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

"Depends on what you want..." his hand settled at the nape of her neck. 

"I want to make you feel good, Morgan." she swallowed dryly and wondered how he already knew everything that drove her crazy. "How do you feel about safety words?" 

"I'm green about them, Glenn Close." he smiled at that. 

"So if I said I'm yellow at best about watersports..." 

"I'd say that's fine 'cause they're a solid red for me." his hand closed around a fist full of her hair. 

"How about this?"

"Green." she gasped as he gave a slight pull, the force measured and spread so that a pleasant and even tension rung around the base of her skull. He hummed darkly, letting go of her hair to move between her legs, shifting them both entirely onto the bed.

"Yeah?" His weight ground against her as he kissed her hungrily. His hands left trails of goosebumps down her ribs and across her thighs. He was fully hard against her stomach now. A small wet spot caused the light fabric to stick to her skin. 

She was so distracted by the need to feel his heat entirely it was a surprise when she realized he had pinned her hands above her head. 

"How 'bout this?" she bucked up into him as a response. 

"Green." it was a moan against his lips, just barely coherent.

"I figured." His mouth was on hers once again. Before pulling back and reaching for something on the floor. She moved one of her newly freed hands to the front of his boxers, rubbing the length of his cock through the silk. He made a frustrated noise before stretching further away to grab whatever he was looking for. She slid her other hand down until she could rub a couple fingers against her clit. She moved both hands together, enjoying sharing this pleasure with him. 

"AhHa!" Glenn hoisted his top half onto the makeshift bed, holding up a black lanyard of keys, face wild with triumph. "You've been up here causing trouble, huh?" she bit her lip and shook her head. 

"I just wanted to make you feel good." She mumbled, falling back into her innocence ploy. 

"Ohhh? "Just wanted to make me feel good". And did you stop to think maybe you shouldn't start things you can't finish?" His words were dark, but his dimples spoke of joy and adoration. 

"No," she stopped her hands, moving them to hold slack fabric at the legs of his boxers. 

"And what were you going to do exactly?" Let him fuck her! The answer burned through every cell in her body. She'd been having trouble thinking of anything else since they had first kissed. But that wasn't the game he was playing, and his game seemed so fun. 

"I don't know. I wasn't thinking that far ahead." She squirmed under him, holding his hips down with the boxers, so the covered head of his cock pushed against her open pussy lips. 

"Fuck" He groaned, clearly having trouble controlling himself. 

"Glenn-" she broke off into a gasp as his hips rocked forward at his name. She silently cursed the thin fabric that kept him from pushing all the way into her like she wanted. "I need you, please..." she moved her hips with his rhythm. 

"You're not making this easy." he gave a frustrated chuckle.

"If this isnt being easy, i dont know what is." he broke into a full laugh at that, burying his face into the crook of her neck. They shook together, snickering for a moment, and she pressed kisses against his temple, reaching up to brush a lock of his hair behind his ear. He mumbled something incoherent into her collar bone.

"What?" he shook his head, looking up at her with a bright red face. Attempting to regain control over the situation, he took her hands and pinned them above her head. 

"Maybe this will keep you out of trouble." He stretched out and strung the lanyard through the grab handle on the back of the driver seat before twisting the lanyard and putting the thick ribbon around her wrist. Essentially he had bound her arms up in the least threatening way she could imagine. The woven fabric was wide and smooth, providing reliable tension without much pain, and the rope work was so simple that she had to hook her thumbs over the 'cuffs' to keep her hands from slipping out. 

"Maybe..." she bucked her hips against him again, using new restraints as leverage. She couldn't keep from moaning, the friction against her was an overwhelming pleasure, but the cuffs were grounding. 

"Oh, maybe?" he mocked. Kissing her again before moving away. She watched him pull off the boxers and marveled at his hard dick red and dripping in the open air. He followed her gaze "Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"You want this cock?" she nodded, biting her lip. He crawled in between her legs, kissing her again in a possessive, hungry way. One of his hands slipped down between her thighs and played expertly with the wetness he found there. She gasped at the electric bliss that ran through her gut. "Who's Cock do you need?" he growled against her jaw.

"Glenn Close's" Her voice was all heat and air, and his cock twitched against her thigh as a response. He rewarded her for answering by rubbing a few measured circles around her clit. She breathed in sharply through her teeth, arching into him for more. "Please..." she managed, pulling against the cuffs in frustration. 

"Please what, Morgan?" Her name sounded religious in his mouth. 

"Please fuck me" he didn't need any more convincing. Kissing her deeply before shifting, so his cock lined up with her pussy. There was a heart-stopping moment where their eyes met. Morgan wondered distantly if she had ever had needed someone more than this. And then he pushed into her. 

There was a satisfying burn from her body accommodating him. He wasn't necessarily the biggest thing she had taken. Still, it had been long enough since she'd inserted anything that she appreciated the almost gentle way he moved into her. 

"Fuuuuccckk" He drew out the word as he pressed into her fully. Stoping when their hips were flushed. Shaking and sweating from the effort of not moving. 

"Glenn," he looked up, eyes clouded with lust. "Green." he nodded, something akin to astonishment crossing his face before he pulled out and snapped his hips forward in a delicious movement. She cried out against him, and with his next thrust, he caught her mouth, teasing her bottom lip with his teeth. And she arched into him, helping find a rhythm that worked for them both. Gods, it felt good to shut off her brain and just revel in the feeling of being fucked. Nothing mattered but the pleasure they were creating. 

Everything he did only added to her ecstasy. The soft brush of his hair, across her face, the dire noises she pulled from his throat, his long fingers finding footholds in the skin of her waist. He seemed somehow to know what she wanted and needed just as she did and had no issues playing her body like some complex instrument that he had spent years mastering.

"Mor," his plea rumbled through them. How could she not comply with that? She tilted her hips up to meet his. Letting him have as much of her as he needed. And he took it, returning her generosity twofold. He moved in and out of her at a marvelous tempo, pressing frantic kisses across her neck and chest, holding her waist ever closer with desperate hands. She felt cherished in his arms. And then he stopped. 

"No," she wined at the emptiness she felt as he pulled out completely. 

"I need a minute," he panted into her collar bone, working his hand down her body until it found the heat pooled between her legs. She swore as he caught her clit between his thumb and pointer finger. She couldn't help but writhe under him, her pleasure building, as he moved his clever fingers in and around her. 

"Close-" and she was. 

"Do you want to cum?" his motions slowed.

"Yes!" she gasped, bucking her hips up into his hand.

"Will you be able to keep going, after?" He had almost stopped now, the warmth of his digits pressed against her, keeping her close to the edge.

"Yes. yes. Please-" she squirmed, desperately trying to get the last bit of friction she needed from him. 

"Please what?" 

"Please make me cum, Glenn-" and he did. 

She threw her head back as he brought her right to the brink, shifting briefly and pushing back into her with his cock right as the first contractions of her orgasm hit. 

"Mmmnnnn, Morgan, your so good." he groaned; she wanted to answer, but she was having trouble remembering how to breathe. Mouth still open in a silent scream as the pleasure rolled through her—legs wrapped around his waist possessively, hands gripping at the lanyard as if it were a lifeline. He set a gentle but consistent pace, helping to prolong her pleasure without overwhelming her. Her first breath tore raggedly past the back of her throat in a not wholly unpleasant way. 

"-eNN-" she tried to say his name again before she had complete control of her voice.

"-fuck yeah, Morgan, baby!" his prase came between tender kisses against her face, his hips held still for a second. she took the moment to catch her breath. "do you want a break, god you came so hard Morg. you gonna be good?" he was almost incoherent with adoration, softly rocking into her while he waited for a response. 

"I'm good I'm... green, green!" She gasped, remembering the words they'd agreed on. 

"so fucking good for me, Morgan." He kept kissing her as his hips started to build up momentum again. Eventually, slamming into her in a mind-melting pace. A steady string of words mumbled incoherently into the air between them and often pushed into her skin by his lips. She cried back responses when she had the breathe and since to do so. Calling his name like a mantra until they were both so wrapped up in the sensations of being here and this together that nothing else mattered. 

"Mor!" and that had to be her name this time because she had nothing more to give him. She was his. Just as he was hers. A paradox of ownership that worked out to them being one soul bound only to itself, 

"Glenn-" She almost screamed, his name arching off the bed as another orgasm loomed just out of reach. His hips became frantic as he approached his own zenith. And then they were cumming. 

Morgan saw stars; everything was heat and pleasure for one endless moment. Unable to tell where he stopped and she began. He surrounded her, inside and out. His body held to hers, the taste of him in her mouth, his name branded in her chest. She was so saturated with him. And Gods, she had never felt so completely satisfied.

She laid back fully on the pullout bed, her hands slipping easily out of the lanyard. He withdrew and rolled half-way off her into the narrow space against the wall. Heavy breath spaced out to content sighs. He hung an arm over her waist. And held her somewhere equidistant from possessive and comforting. 

"That was amazing," she mumbled somewhere near his temple. His chuckle was felt rather than heard.

"You're amazing." and she gave a lazy hum as an agreement, too satisfied to argue. He pulled her closer, pressing his lips against her forehead. His breath warmed her scalp in a position too tender for a casual hook-up. 

It should've felt wrong. She should've felt dirty or guilty, maybe even used. But here, at the edge of sleep in the haven of his arms, her head full of cannabis and oxytocin, she couldn't help but feel loved. 

Morgan dreamt of road-trips, of sound checks, and discount dive-bar dinners. Of writing lyrics, of endless jam sessions, and late nights with good friends. She dreamt about tough decisions, and thrifting cribs, of rock songs turned lullabies, and a small house on the edge of a decent school district. Morgan dreamt of driving in driving rain, of frantic horns and turning to protect a car-seat. And then she didn't dream at all. 

She woke up with no idea where she was, but it smelled like home, so the grief and fear slipped from her as quickly as the eclectic dreams. She opened her eyes to watch her phone light up on the filthy van carpet. She reached out for it with the arm not pressed under the warmth of the guitarist. Opening the phone and holding it to her ear.

"Morgan?" Jodie's voice sent guilt icing through her gut. 

"Yeah. I'm here." Her voice burned across the smoke damage at the back of her throat. 

"Are you okay? I've been worried sick." Morgan moved up out of the makeshift bed cold air bringing her attention to the cum dripping down her thighs. 

"Yeah, I'm fine..." What else could she say? 

"Okay, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I've been putting my job first, and I should've been more focused on us... on you, you're my everything Morgan, I'd be lost without you, and I know that I don't deserve a second chance, but I'd be honored to try to make it up to you. I love you." Morgan looked to her left out of the half fogged window, dyed pink and purple from the sunrise. 

"I... I'm sorry..." she stood up to give herself something else to focus on besides the sinking sense of dread settling into her bones.

"Morgan, Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for." she shook her head, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Do you want me to come and get you?" she shook her head again before realizing he couldn't see her. 

"No, I can get back." her voice was too hoarse. She couldn't tell if it was from the smoking or the crying. 

"Okay, just be safe; I love you."

"I love you too." She waited for him to hang up first, putting the flip phone into the pocket of her hoodie and collecting her clothes from the floor. She was crying now, not a huge production, simply a release from everything she had done wrong. 

"Hey," she turned towards Glenn's voice; he laid on the bed half propped up on his elbow. Purple marks she had left trailing down his chest. 

"Hey." she held his eyes, even through the blur of tears.

"You good?" his mouth held in a line, gaze warm and cautious. She shook her head. Balling her fists in her jacket as she stifled sobs. He stood holding her gently to his chest. 

Morgan felt found. A clearly defined spot in space one moment in time. She was here and now and real, and everything that entailed hung just outside the walls of the van waiting for her to go out and face them. But before all that, she could simply be held. No judgment cast. No demands required just needed support. 

"I'm sorry." She wasn't sure why. For doing this to him, or Jo, or herself. Maybe she was sorry that she had done it at all or that she would never get to do this again. 

"Don't be," he pressed his face into her hair and breathed as he had last night with the joint. Like he could hold a breath of her with him when she left. And then he let her go, turning to the cupboards above the fold-out bed. 

She felt chilled without him against her and pulled on her shirts to try and combat the desire to ask for him back. He handed her a half-used pack of baby wipes, and she smiled a thank you before attempting to clean up her thighs from him. He didn't watch her as she dressed the rest of the way. As if ignoring her now would make her looming absence easier. He just got back into his own clothes and helped her gather her things.

"Do you want a ride?" His voice was careful, like she was one part fragile and two parts dangerous. 

"No, I shouldn't..." she shouldn't have done a lot of things, but she guessed they had to find the line of no return at some point. 

"Do you want-" he bit his lip to stop himself. She would later wonder what he would've asked. '-money for a cab?' '-coffee before you go?' '-to leave right now and never look back?' She wasn't sure she would've been able to refuse him anything. 

"I need to go." he nodded, almost hiding his disappointment. She moved to the door, struggling to open it before he reached around her and twisted the troublesome handle just so. "Thanks," she moved away from his warmth. And into the damp air of the morning. 

"Anytime," they both knew he wasn't talking about the door. 

"That means a lot." and neither was she. He rose to stand just outside the van with her. Giving her space but hovering close enough that she only had to reach out to have him again. There was a pregnant pause, where both of them tried to think of anything that would provide an adequate sense of closure. The closest thing her bewildered mind could come up with was 'i love you'. So he spoke first.

"Well, see you around." they wouldn't. She was sure he knew it, but it was so much easier to say than goodbye. 

"Yeah. See you around, Mrs. DeVil." he smiled at that, a melancholy shadow of what she had seen last night. She paused a moment longer, debating if she would be able to leave if she leaned in for one last kiss. Rational thought won out for the first time since she'd left her house. She walked away, pulling out her phone to call a cab, so she had something to distract her from the growing need to rush back. She turned once to look at him before walking through the alley. Found him standing where she'd left him, leaning up against the van, a cloud of smoke catching lavender light in a halo around his head. 

And then she left him. 

**Author's Note:**

> ***This fic idea was brought to you by Implanon! Implanon was a birth control implant available through the 2000s and 2010s. Like most hormonal implants, Implanon was designed to be inserted under the dermis, but due to issues with the installation process, it was hard to tell if the device was actually in your arm. Between 1999 and 2011, almost 600 people experienced pregnancy after they had been told the risk of pregnancy had was nearly negligible***
> 
> See!!! I have range! I can do sad, AND horny!!! It's a fun new emotion I'm calling Sorny.
> 
> Anyway... feel free to yell at me down below. It really makes my day. AO3 has this neat little comment function just after this. And if that seems like a hassle, you can walk deep into the forbidden landscape nearest you and bellow your complex emotions into the void. I should be able to respond to them within 5-7 business days.


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